Because the Future is Uncertain
by Caitlyn90
Summary: Voldemort fell. The wizarding world followed soon after, torn apart from the inside and destroyed from outside. Now Harry is alone, separated from those he loves. He will not stop searching, but cannot tell what the futire holds for him, or them.
1. Because The Future Is Uncertain

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any characters or places named in these stories.**

_There is a plaque in the great hall. Decorated in silver and white, its cold, grey stone stands out in an understated kind of way. Embossed in gold, in tiny, spidery writing, are endless lines of names. The last reminder of the day when the future ended for so many, and the wizarding word fell silent._

Three years have passed since the great battle, that final day. Harry Potter looks up into the silent room and blinks slowly. Not through surprise, but sad frustration. There are eighteen people in the room. He knows them well, their families and friends, and how their lives have been torn apart. All because of one day, which should have been the greatest day of their lives.

After Voldemort fell, order was restored to the wizarding world. Not quickly, but it was regained. The ministry was replaced, Azkaban was restored to use as a prison, though without the dementors, who had fled with the giants and death eaters as their leader fell. There was partying and singing, a celebration of the end of Voldemort, where Harry Potter was held over all as the saviour of the wizarding world once again.

Until the muggles came.

It took over a year, but eventually the battle took its toll in ways the wizarding community could never have imagined. Families had been devastated, communities torn apart, and the foundations of trust shaken to pieces.

The first shock had been wizards turning their back on magic. Those who had lost the most at the hands of Voldemort and the death eaters simply could not cope with using their wands and magic, when the same had caused them so much grief and heartache. Some simply left, taking bags with them, never to be seen again. Most of them ended up in muggle communities. Those best able to fit in are happier now; they have homes and jobs and have blocked memories from their heads. Those with little muggle knowledge are in hospitals or care homes, barely able to cope for themselves without the magic they turned away from, driven insane by their pasts.

The muggle community are not as unobservant as many wizards believe. The first wave of wizards were seen as odd, the second as suspicious, and the third as proof.

They came in waves.

Flooding into the villages, diagon alley and hogsmeade, they overwhelmed the wizarding population. Wizards found out the hard way that muggles can get into their spelled areas if they know about them. And for muggles, proof is knowing. But muggles are jealous of magic; small children want it, adults are scared of it. So the wizards are a problem. And history tells us what to do about problems. But the wizards don't want another war.

"And so we fled."

To the hills, to forest, to abandoned barns. In twos and threes for safety.

To Hogwarts, where the abandoned ruins now house the largest group of wizards in the country.

Harry is searching now.

Searching for those he lost.

Again.

Because Ginny has to be out there.

She has to be.


	2. Because Life Is Never How You Plan

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any characters or places named in these stories.**** Lyrics (in italics) are by Owl City, and no work of my own.**

She would never have left. Not in a million years. But that day it was not meant to be.

Harry remembers it vividly; through panic and screaming, through chaos and pounding feet. The thumping of his heart, the swish of her hair, the panic on her face, and the space between them increasing.

They'd thought themselves safe at the Burrow. There were too many of them, but no complaints. One of the final wizarding strongholds, the Burrow and surrounding houses had been packed to bursting. People slept on the floor, ate outside. Harry and a few others who had mastered the art of muggle were sent for food and supplies from the towns nearby.

It happened at dinner time. Dinner had to be eaten in shifts, an epic cooking operation in the kitchen, and long canteen tables out in the garden. Harry had been helping to cook, and took a plate of food out to the waiting tables. As he put the dish on the table, a small hand wound its way around his waist. Turning slightly, he caught Ginny's head in his arms and pulled her towards him, kissing her lightly on the lips. Such was the distraction of the food that nobody noticed, but her eyes lingered on him as he kissed her once more and left for the house.

Harry cleared the table as Molly started to prepare pudding for the masses and Professor McGonagall organised the washing up to do itself. He wasn't supposed to call her Professor any more, he'd been told several times, but old habits die hard.

"Molly!" Her voice cracked as she exclaimed. "Molly, get everyone inside!"

Harry froze, as did Molly. The panic in Minerva's voice was unlike anything he had ever heard. Looking up, he followed her gaze over to the hill, growing gradually dimmer in the fading light. Except it wasn't right. The hill was moving as hundreds of tiny figures swarmed over it. The front of the crowd were too close to the Burrow to be safe.

"How the hel-" Began Molly as Harry launched himself at the door. Wrenching it open he knew he was too late.

The crowd was not just muggles. This crowd had power, as Harry stepped though the door he was thrown backwards by an invisible field. Minerva had been just behind him, she too flew backwards, landing on top of him on the kitchen floor.

The atmosphere outside changed. It had been jolly, one of merriment and partying. The shouts became screams, the laughter turned to wails. Feet pounded the stairs, as more and more of the house's occupants realised something was happening. Something bad.

Harry stood as the first wave entered the kitchen, ran to the door and were repelled into each other. Some ran to the back door and to windows.

"Argh!"

"We can't-"

"Ouch"

"-get out"

"What's go-"

"Get out-"

"-ing on?"

"-the way!"

The shouts from inside overwhelmed those from outside. People began casting spells, trying to unlock windows, remove the block, force their way through.

Harry forced his way to an open window and began casting every spell he could think of, wishing fervently that Hermione was here for her spell knowledge. But she was, theoretically, safe and hidden in the muggle world.

He could see her through the window. Her ginger hair swung in the wind as she whirled around to face the crowd spilling into the garden from every angle. There were too many people, unrecognisable faces everywhere. But wait, there! He knew that face too well. Staring at him in a graveyard, from underneath a mask.

"Death eaters!" He yelled to the startled kitchen. "There's death eaters out there!"

New screams punctuated the kitchen. Someone fainted. Parents called out for their children in vain, and children started to cry. Inside the house and out was pandemonium.

Arthur yelled something, audible yet no distinguishable above the noise. Molly stared at him in shock, then composed herself and nodded.

"Apparate out!" He shouted. "Now! Leave everything and go!"

A mother made one last run at the door, and was flung backwards. A resounding CRACK filled the room. Similar cracking noises came from outside, as more masked figures appeared in the garden.

Frantically, harry surveyed the scene outside. He knew what he was looking for. That one person, that one face which would make everything alright. But there were so many Weasleys. Over and over again surveyed every face until he found her. Found her too late.

She was panicking. Wand out, not knowing which way to turn. As Harry watched, she met his eye through the window.

Time slowed. A redhead, her uncle, Harry thought, though that hardly matters now, grabbed her elbow. Her hair swung wildly as she tuned to face him, to defend herself. Seeing a friendly face she clung to his arm. Harry watched as her screwed up his face and disappeared with a CRACK. Taking Ginny with him. And she was gone.

So she was safe, away from the death eaters. All over the garden, similar things were happening. Harry had never passed his apparition test, but such things didn't matter now.

Minerva ran over to him, carrying a Weasley Harry only knew by sight.

"Holyrood park, Edinburgh. Tomorrow at noon. OK? Go!" Harry nodded, taking the boy from her arms. Concentrating, he vanished.

Withing minutes the Burrow was empty. Scattered to various corners of the country for safety, with no means of communicating.

Minerva never reached Holyrood park. With the child's mother she had apparated seconds later to Hampshire, not wishing to attract too much suspicion. Within hours, the ability to apparate had gone. For everyone.

And that was that.

"_The silence isn't so bad. Until I look at my hands and feel sad. 'Cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly."_

Hermione is running again. Not for her life, or food or shelter. But because it stops her thinking. Dressed in tight black shorts and a blue running top, her short brown hair pulled tightly into a hair band and secured with clips digging into her head. Her white trainers pound against the mud, splashing dark mud up her legs as she moves between the trees.

Hermione adapts.

Witch

Muggle

Witch

Miuggle

Muggle now. A busy suburban street, a semi-detatched house with front and back garden. It's a student area, but she barely knows the girls she is living with. Too late to apply for student halls she has ended up living off the campus she never wanted to attend in the first place.

Her parents made her come back. She found them, in the months after Voldemort fell, went out to Australia and removed the charm hiding them. It hadn't been easy, but they moved back to England. She had A-levels now. Qualifications that meant something in the muggle world. At the first sign of trouble her parents had forced her though college, and then into university.

She had been in contact with Harry all that time, even when they announced his death in the papers, both muggle and wizarding, she had been one of few to know it wasn't him. She'd seen him since, a rushed meeting in the forest of dean, the exact spot they had camped years before. But now silence reigned. She hadn't seen an owl in weeks, hadn't received a letter in months, and had been left with hope.

Ron writes sometimes. But they're coded letters, half written and shoved into post boxes as he moves from place to place. She can't reply, where would she send the letter? But she does reply, the shoebox of letters overflows under her bed.

Southampton isn't that bad. The uni has a good reputation, and her coursemates are friendly, but it's not Hogwarts, they're not Harry or Ron.

"_I'll watch the night turn light blue. But it's not the same without you. Because it takes two to whisper quietly."_

Ron and Ginny are both lying in the hay in Yorkshire. Haylofts make a good hiding place in winter. They will rarely be disturbed and food is plentiful on farms.

They are two farms across from each other. This is the closest they have been all year. But they don't know it. In the morning they will be forced to run. Ginny by the farmer who sees her emerge from the barn in the morning. Ron by the vagrant hiding behind the second hay bale, who will surprise him as he wakes and startle him into fleeing. In a few days she will be in the Home Counties. He will nearly have reached Scotland. Because that's what the future holds. For now.

"_If my heart were a compass you'd be north"_

"_If my heart was a house you'd be home"_

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	3. Because Life Is Full Of Surprises

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any characters or places named in these stories.**

"Anything worth reading in there?"

"Same as usual."

"No more sightings?"

"No."

Harry passed the paper over to Arthur. He knew exactly what would happen. Having just watched him go through the entire paper, Arthur would go through it again, in the hope that there would be some news hinting to his family hidden on one of the pages. There never was, though they both checked every day. And when Arthur put the paper down, another member of the group would pick it up and comb the pages in the same way.

Nineteen people. That was their little world now, the only surviving witches and wizards they could be sure of. Of course, there were people like Hermione out there somewhere, who had adapted and survived. Not that Hermione had needed to adapt too much. Muggle-borns were pretty safe in this new world; they knew how to react without magic.

Harry knew he could have changed, have gone out into the world and started a new life as a muggle. He'd spent 11 years of his life doing it; he could surely have gone back to it. Except that the papers had declared him dead. Even several years on, people might notice if he started walking down their local high street or moved in next door.

Most of the others didn't have the choice. He'd never met most of them before the weeks at the Burrow. Some of them he'd met later; when they had separately had the same thought and sought safety at Hogwarts.

He'd waited in Holyrood park. He'd been early. The little boy he had ended up with turned out to be called Ben Abbott. He hadn't wanted to ask if Ben was related to Hannah, in case it made the little boy homesick. Harry had never been too good with crying children, especially when they were cold and hungry.

He had a little muggle money, and had bought them both some lunch in a little bakery on a side street. They sat on a bench in a clearing in the park, eating sandwiches and talking. Or rather, Ben babbled senselessly while Harry looked around and around in hope of seeing Minerva, or any other witch or wizard.

Nobody came.

He waited three days, until the money ran out. Then he tried to apparate back to near the Burrow, in case they just hadn't been able to find them in the park. It didn't work. There was a funny spinning sensation and nothing moved, just like in those practice sessions in the Great Hall years before.

It took weeks to get to Hogwarts. Harry resorted to scrounging food from closing cafes and shops, hoping that the sell by dates weren't too far gone, in order to keep Ben going. They became well practiced at fare dodging, only going a few stations at a time. Harry didn't like it, but there was no way he could walk to Hogwarts, especially as he didn't exactly know where it was.

They reached Hogsmeade first. It looked like a battleground. Ben started to cry and Harry agreed with the sentiment. He bent down and picked the little boy up to comfort him. Straightening up, he found himself staring straight into a pair of eyes looking out from a dark window. Mentally checking they looked like muggles, Harry steadied his breathing, moved Ben into a piggy-back position and carried him towards the house.

He knocked loudly, the sound echoing in the empty street. There was a nervous shuffling inside the house, but the chain scraped back and the door opened a fraction and an eye peered out.

"Yes?"

"My brother and I are lost; I think we got off at the wrong station." Harry hazarded.

"Nobody comes here any more, there are no trains."

"Well, um, we've been walking for a while."

Ben pulled at Harry's hair, and Harry leaned up to swipe him away. The eye moved to focus less on Harry.

"_Ben_?" The voice was startled. Ben looked towards his name in confusion. The door closed and the chain was removed, Harry could hear it clattering against the doorframe. The door opened wider and Harry was confronted by a frail old lady with grey hair and a walking came, wearing robes.

She held out her arms to Ben, who squirmed towards her. Harry hesitated, he had no idea who this lady might be, but he'd never met her before in his life.

"Nana Meg!" Squealed Ben. Which answered that question. Harry pulled Ben off his back and handed him to the lady, who looked at him closely and stepped backwards in shock. Steadying herself, she took a few breaths, holding Ben to her.

"I think you'd better come in."

The living room was dark and dusty, showing little sign of being lived in. Meg placed Ben in a chair and handed him a cake from a small plate on the sideboard. Turning to Harry, she pulled a newspaper from the shelf. It was a muggle paper, Harry was surprised despite himself, he knew the only newspapers still printing were run by muggles.

"Page 5."

Harry opened the paper and scanned the page. There it was, a small article in the bottom corner…

"_**Raid on 'wizarding house' successful", claims police chief**_

_In the late hours of Monday 13__th__, a group of officers apprehended a large group of the 'wizarding' community gathered in a countryside house. The officers admitted to using force when the group fought back. Seven people are believed to be in hospital, while eighteen dead, including Harry Potter, inset, who is said to be of some importance to the community. Police are appealing for witnesses to the location of up to thirty people seen fleeing the scene. _

It was accompanied by a small photo of Harry similar to those used by the Prophet after Voldemort's downfall, except it was stationary.

"A _group_ of officers?" Was all Harry could manage. His head was reeling.

"Clearly that's not what happened. You're not dead, for a start."

"No."

Before he could explain, there was a bang from outside. Meg moved quickly to Ben and began to pull him from the room.

"It's not safe here. I don't know what that is, but there's less chance of them finding us upstairs. We need to move out in the morning, assuming you plan to stay with Ben?"

Her tone left Harry in no doubt that she and Ben came as a pair now. He could think of only one suggestion.

"We were going to head for Hogwarts."

"We won't be the first."

Meg had the paper now. Harry wasn't paying attention; his eyes were elsewhere, on the ceiling that was no longer covered by candles. This room was far too large and cold, but everywhere else was too far damaged from the war and ensuing battles.

"Arthur. Arthur!"

She was white as a sheet, her hands gripping the paper so hard it was tearing. Her eyes never left the page as Arthur swiftly crossed the room towards her."

"Arthur, _it's Ginny_!"

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